


Mud People

by fardareismai2



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai2/pseuds/fardareismai2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different perspective on the graveyard scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mud People

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is in response to At A Venture's Weekly One-Shot Challenge:
> 
> This week's theme:
> 
> "Gravedigger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain?"

I normally do not enjoy the wailings of what passes for music in these modern times; however, Sookie did not seem to enjoy some of the more, unique, music I had grown accustomed to. I endeavored, therefore, to become more conversant in the music she enjoys.

As I drove home that night, I switched the channel to one of Shreveport's more popular stations. I found myself tapping the steering wheel in time to the music, while picturing Sookie dancing to some of the songs. A few minutes later my attention was caught by the lyrics of a somewhat haunting song.

Muriel Stonewall

1903 to 1954

She lost both of her babies in the second great war

Now you should never have to watch

Your only children lowered in the ground

I mean you should never have to bury your own babies

The words struck a chord with me. I had not watched my children lowered into the ground. That was done in the daylight, however, I know what it is to bury your own babies. I turned up the volume. I try not to dwell on my mortal life, on my time before Lorena. At some time or another, however, every vampire has to bury those they loved. Mine are just outside my house.

I felt a shudder run through me. I do not often sleep in the ground. Sometimes, however, I get a sort of sixth sense. A feeling that perhaps, despite all my precautions, my resting place is just not secure. The day Malcolm and my other friends were killed was such a day.

I was already feeling uneasy, but Sookie's message made me more so. I dug in, next to my family, in my own "grave." I did not dig very deep, although it was deep enough not to feel the rain. And it rained that night.

I was roused from my sleep by her shouting. I dug out from the ground, feeling the rain as it sluiced off some of the red, clay-like dirt from my naked body. She stood there in the rain, her dress clinging seductively to all her curves, but I could see something was very wrong.

As it was, I was having a bit of trouble controlling myself around her at that moment. Relatively young vampires like me tend to awaken hungry. Seeing her like that, the rain running over her skin, molding her clothing to her body so that everything was enhanced, well, let's just say if I was a few years younger she may never have gotten a chance to tell me her news.

When she did, rage collided with hunger and the lust she naturally instills in me, and it was everything I could do not to attack her. My cock was throbbing, my throat was burning with thirst and, I howled in frustration. I grabbed her and started to pull her towards me. I was rigid with the effort of self-control, but I wanted to hold her anyway. Perhaps I was feeling masochistic. My friends were dead. I was alive. I think I was scaring her, but I could not speak to reassure her. I was afraid of what I would say, what I might do. All I knew was that I needed to feel her against me.

Then she leaned forward and licked my chest, rubbing my nipple with her face, and my wall of control crumbled completely. In a second I threw her to the ground and slid into her. She was tight and hot, and we were primal. Rutting in the mud like animals. It was heaven. Her hands and nails tore at my flesh, but it only drove me harder.

As I sank my fangs into her neck, she came. Unbelievable. A couple of weeks earlier she was a virgin and now, she was here, fucking me in the mud in a graveyard, with no preparation and responding so completely. She came, hard. I felt her clenching me, her screams echoing through the night. Her blood gushed into my mouth, hot and sweet. With a howl I followed, then withdrew my fangs from her neck, licking the small wounds.

After we bathed, and she rested, I wanted her again. I think I will want her until my final death. She did not want me to drink from her again. I told her it was alright. It wasn't, but it made sense. She wanted to be strong for me, so I asked her to show me how. She had never done it before, but she rode me with a passion that made up for any inexperience.

The song ended and, the jarring voice of the disc jockey brought me back from my reverie. I felt my cock straining against my pants. I turned around and headed to Merlotte's. I needed to see her, to feel her, to taste her.

Gravedigger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain?


End file.
